


you know i get excited when you get jealous too

by morevirtuemoir



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: D/s Vibes, F/M, Flirting, Jealousy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, Stars on Ice, Teasing, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14554506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morevirtuemoir/pseuds/morevirtuemoir
Summary: Tessa can't lie about it. She's jealous of Scott's drunken escapades during the Stars on Ice tour. But when they meet Drake at a Raptors game, she seizes an opportunity to exact revenge.





	you know i get excited when you get jealous too

**Author's Note:**

> Hahahahaha I can't believe I wrote this. 
> 
> This is inspired by a tumblr post made by wishfulwannabe. An anon said: "I hope Tessa spends the whole night with Drake and makes Scott fucking jealous as hell, bc he’s out at bars dancing with random chicks while she’s been hanging back all alone at the hotel liking cute, shipping pictures of them. Everyone’s going on and on about Scott “getting some” and deserving to be happy, but what about Tessa?? I want her to get some and be happy too—girl’s WAY overdue!!!" 
> 
> So Tessa's overdue happiness comes in this form, by way of her flirting with Drake while looking FINE. AS. HELL. 
> 
> Tessa and Scott pls don't read this I'm sorry you were never meant to see *this.* 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at morevirtuemoir!!!

Tessa Virtue is nothing if not an opportunist. 

So far, her Stars on Ice Canada 2018 tour experience has been pretty basic: she goes to rehearsal and then goes back to the hotel, she does meet and greets and press events, she skates the shows. She doesn’t do any sight-seeing, doesn’t venture far beyond the hotel — hell she even sends Scott for her Starbucks half of the time, which he’s happy to retrieve — and she certainly doesn’t get shit-faced. 

Scott does all of those things and then some. He and Patrick take an afternoon trip to Peggy’s Cove when they’re rehearsing in Halifax. He walks around the cities freely, even when there might be fangirls staking out their hotel for a selfie and a chance to investigate the Virtue/Moir relationship. And, unsurprisingly, he becomes well-acquainted with the night-life in each city. He goes out every night they’re in Halifax rehearsing, sometimes with Patrick, sometimes on his own. He dances with girls and buys them shots, takes selfie after selfie, and lives his best post-Olympics life. 

It’s driving Tessa crazy. As his girlfriend — secret girlfriend because they’re still partners and the world would implode if they found out — she doesn’t believe in dictating how Scott spends his downtime. Sure, she wishes he would spend every free hour with her in bed but she knows that she can’t ask for that. They’re together every other minute of the day, he should have time to himself. 

It’s just, that time to himself tends to include drunkenly dancing with girls who believe that he’s single, therefore available for them to attempt to hook up with. Tessa’s nights in often turn to Instagram at some point and Scott’s tagged photos are great at inducing jealousy. She’s seen picture after picture of him, eyes wild and drunk, with his arms slung around university-aged girls, of him two-stepping with twenty-somethings and even a video of him ballroom dancing with a particularly beautiful brunette. 

So when they go to a Raptors game in Toronto, Tessa turns a look. Not even a look, a lewk. She’s gotten good at the whole ‘slay the public appearance style’ game, but she’s pretty proud of this one. Her favorite element is the skirt, by far, which is well-fitted and features a nice high slit. Scott’s obsessed with her legs, so she might be doing it just to drive him crazy. 

“Holy shit, T,” is his response when they finally meet up at the Air Canada Centre. They’re not staying together — he’s staying with his cousin — so they didn’t travel together, for once. They’re underneath the arena, waiting to be escorted to the court so they can make an on-camera appearance. 

They’re alone in a small meeting room, so Scott takes the opportunity to fully take Tessa’s look in. He pauses a few steps away from her and drags his eyes all the way down her body, taking care to linger on her hips and her legs. 

“Well?” She teases, cocking her hip a little more and giving him a flirty smile. 

“This is unfair. How dare you do this to me,” he teases, closing the distance between them and pressing a heated kiss to her lips. His hands instantly find her hips and hers quickly wind around his neck, pressing her body against his. They move together in perfect sync; Scott pulls her hips closer, does anything possible to be closer to her. He starts pressing kisses down her neck, nipping at her collarbone.

“Be careful,” she warns, threading fingers through his hair, “we have to be seen. Like, now.” 

“But you look so good, T,” he murmurs into her skin, pressing another long kiss to a sweet spot on her neck. She wants to give in, would be totally fine with wasting this look on only Scott, but then there’s a knock at the door. 

Scott groans as he extracts his limbs from Tessa’s, and opens the door to find an usher waiting to take them to the court. Tessa knows her cheeks are flushed, knows that Scott’s hair is mussed but she’s so past the point of caring. They walk through the center’s hallways hand in hand, take a picture in front of a step-and-repeat with the Raptors logo on it before they’re led to the court. 

Their appearance is brief and easy, especially compared to the interviews they’ve been fielding since the Olympics. They just have to walk on court, wave to the cameras and the crowd, and then Scott has to wind up a siren. It’s easy. They go their separate ways for the rest of the game, Scott heading to a box to sit with his cousin, Tessa sitting with some friends in the stands. She has one beer — one since she can’t have it turning into another women’s hockey final — and they text throughout. 

But the opportunity arises when Tessa spots Drake at his court-side seat. At one point, feeling emboldened by the alcohol and her desire to make Scott as jealous as she’s been in the past few weeks, she shoots him a text. 

‘Do you think we could meet Drake after?’ 

Within seconds he replies with ‘idk probably.’ 

‘I hope so. My friends would never let me live it down. He’s one of the hottest men in Canada.’ 

Scott doesn’t text her back. She does get a snap from his cousin a few minutes later, however, where he’s perched on the ledge in their box, staring Tessa down. She glances up to their general direction and shoots them a wave before blowing a kiss. 

The Raptors lose to the Cavaliers and the crowd is wildly unimpressed, booing as Tessa is escorted back underneath the stadium seating. She stops to take a few pictures with other people but then she’s safe from the public eye again. Scott turns up a few minutes later, smelling the slightest bit like Molson, a classic Scott Moir move. 

“You doing alright there, bud?” Tessa teases as Scott throws his arms around her in a slightly-sloppy hug. He’s nowhere near his drunkest, Tessa’s seen him far more gone than this, but he’s obviously pretty buzzed. 

“Oh my god,” Scott exhales, going tense in Tessa’s arms. She pulls back, confused, trying to figure out what’s going on. When he doesn’t look towards her, when his gaze doesn’t shift at all, she follows it, turning over her shoulder to find Drake standing approximately fifteen feet away from them. 

“Oh my god,” Tessa echoes. The rapper is talking to someone, laughing at whatever they’ve just said. The figure skaters just stare at him and Tessa is fully aware that they’re just staring, but she’s too starstruck. It’s Drake. At a Raptors game. She is thoroughly shook. Scott whispers in her ear and it feels like he’s a million miles away. 

“Do we talk to him? Are we famous enough to—“

“No way!” 

Tessa doesn’t know what her senses are doing but by the time it feels like she lands back on Earth, Drake — who interrupted Scott — is walking over to them, beaming. His agent — or manager? friend? Tessa can’t be sure — follows a few feet behind, cell phone in hand. 

“Breathe, T, don’t forget to breathe,” Scott murmurs, moving from behind her to come stand at her side. 

“I was hoping I’d run into you two,” the rapper enthuses as he reaches the figure skaters. He extends a hand to Scott and the two of them do an intricate handshake/fist-bump/half-hug thing. Tessa is shocked that Scott can keep up; she’ll ask him later how he knew what to do.

“Man, the feeling’s mutual,” Scott replies, his voice doing that high-ish thing it does when he can’t really contain his excitement. Drake is still tuned into Scott, which is perfect because Tessa is also too shocked to figure out how her mouth forms words at the moment. 

“Congrats on the Olympics,” Drake says, clapping his hand against Scott’s shoulder, “You two were amazing. First time I’ve ever really been into figure skating, y’know?” 

“That’s a huge honor,” Scott answers graciously, before his eyes dart to Tessa, “But it probably means more to her. She’s such a fan.” 

Tessa’s heart stops beating, or at least it feels like it, as Drake turns to her with a smile so bright it’s blinding. She thinks he sees his eyes drift over her body before he steps closer to her. 

“Oh is she?” He wonders, amused. He’s totally focused on her, on her response, and she suddenly finds her voice again. 

“Totally,” she confirms, extending a hand to shake. Drake slowly slides his own palm against hers, gives it a firm shake and then doesn’t let go. Tessa glances towards Scott, whose expression is almost unreadable. Almost. His eyebrows are doing the thing they do when he’s not happy when he’s not getting what he wants. He looks suddenly sober. 

Scott’s jealous. 

Tessa runs with it. 

“Do you think we could get a picture?” She asks, using her perfectly poised press voice. Drake nods, gives her a wry smile and soon they and Scott are posing, smiling. She glances towards him between flashes and takes a silent thrill in how quickly Scott’s facade drops when it’s just her eyes on him. He’s pleading with her eyes to leave, to stop, to go to her hotel and just fuck, but she just glances towards Drake with the closest thing to heart-eyes she can possibly get. 

Scott tries to worm his way between them after the pics are taken, but Tessa monopolizes Drake, positions her body closer to hers than it maybe should be. They talk about her favorite song — “it’s so hard to pick,” she sing-songs — and how often he’s secretly watched Moulin Rouge. They go back and forth about creative headspace for a minute or two, explaining their processes. They debate the best restaurant in Toronto. Tessa may or may not let her hand come to touch his elbow. 

Drake drifts a little closer to Tessa. They’re maintaining intense eye contact. He brushes a stray strand of hair out of her face. He says some joke about flying with Air Canada — he prefers any other airline — and even though it’s not that funny, Tessa gives a big, bright laugh. 

Somewhere in the middle of it she checks in with Scott, who is fuming. His arms are crossed and he looks as unimpressed as he was during training in 2013 and 2014 when they were sure they were being overlooked. He raises his eyebrows at her as if to say ‘what the fuck are you doing let’s GO.’ But Tessa just smiles at him before turning back to Drake. 

“How long are you in Toronto?” Drake eventually asks, now dangerously close to him. She can smell him, can smell a faint bit of whiskey, can smell a nice cologne that probably cost more than half of Tessa’s high-end makeup products. 

“Just for tonight and tomorrow,” Scott jumps in. Tessa glances to him, but Drake doesn’t even pay attention, “and we have rehearsal for our Stars on Ice show at like 8 am, so we can’t do anything crazy.”

Tessa can hear him drill the “stars” in Stars on Ice, can feel the harshness in his tone. He’s suddenly next to her, his hand gripping hard into her waist, his chest pressed against her shoulder. She can feel his heart beating quickly and hers starts to pick up. Maybe it’s because she’s used to syncing her heartbeat to his or maybe it’s because she’s aware of what she’s done. She doesn’t care. 

“Alright,” Drake sighs, disappointment clear in his tone. He’s still smiling but it’s clear that he would be down with more conversation over drinks and then probably less conversation. Scott extends a hand for a firm handshake and the rapper accepts. 

“Well, good luck on your show tomorrow. It was really nice meeting you.” 

Drake takes Tessa’s hand to shake, running his thumb over the back as he stares her down. Her knees feel weak and if it weren’t for Scott’s protective stance, she’s sure she’d be a puddle on the floor. Scott clears his throat and squeezes her hip a little bit harder. 

“You too,” she replies, trying not to notice how much her voice breaks on the second syllable. Scott flashes the rapper a slightly sarcastic smile and the three of them go their separate ways. Drake takes off in one direction and the skaters head another, finding their way through tunnels and hallways to where their car is scheduled to pick them up. 

Scott is silent the entire walk and when Tessa flicks her gaze towards him, she shudders. His face is stony, his jaw is set, and his eyes are ablaze. 

“Should we—“ 

“Don’t talk, T. You’ve said enough,” he growls. His voice is low enough that no one hears and his mouth doesn’t move too much to draw attention. He digs his fingers in a little bit more to her hip and she squirms, not out of discomfort, but because of arousal. Jealous Scott is pushing all of her buttons. 

He steers her into their car and the driver starts the journey to Tessa’s hotel, which isn’t too far away. Tessa thanks god for this, because the second they’re sitting together in the backseat, staring out of their respective windows, Scott’s hands start to wander. His hand drifts from her knee, the safe zone, up her thigh, slipping under the slit of her skirt. 

“Scott,” she warns, her voice shaking. 

“Quiet,” he teases. His hand slides further up, fingers dancing across her skin. It feels like they leave a fire in their wake like he’s rousing her nerves. She knows that her eyes are wide and her skin is starting to flush. She hopes the driver keeps his eyes ahead. 

Scott’s fingers reach the fabric of her thong and quickly push it aside. Working like it’s his day job like he’s practiced pushing Tessa’s buttons instead of figure skating for his entire life, he quickly finds her clit and starts to rub small circles. 

“Hm,” he muses, turning to her. His face is perfectly poised, not betraying any of his actions, not giving anything away at all. He’s tense, but that’s nothing. They could’ve come from a long rehearsal. He looks more together than he has the entire tour. Like he’s not feeling Tessa’s wetness like he’s not making her come undone. 

The rest of the drive is much of the same; Scott teases her, swipes his fingers over her core to luxuriate in the wetness. At one point he withdraws his fingers and Tessa breathes, thinks she’s gotten a break. But he just makes eye contact with her and sucks her wetness from his digits, giving a near-silent moan as he does so. 

Tessa wants to call him names, wants to jump on him and kiss him, wants to drop to her knees and ruin her skirt to get back at him, but she’s frozen. His hand drifts back under her skirt and some part of her is sure that this is how she dies. 

Toronto traffic is kind to them — for fucking once, she is so unbelievably grateful — and they’re at Tessa’s hotel sooner rather than later. Scott doesn’t let her lead though. As they arrive, she pulls out her key card to speed the process up and he just snatches it. She whispers the room number in his ear as he escorts her out of the car. 

He takes her hand in something close to a death grip and leads her through the hotel lobby, setting a quick pace. She can still see a bit of her wetness on her fingers, reflecting the lights of the lobby, and she lets out a quiet whine. Scott hears her and glances at her quickly as they make it to the elevator bank. 

“You alright, kiddo?” He asks, voice dripping in fake innocence. He presses a button to call an elevator and steps back, searching her face for an answer. Tessa wants to slap him, wants to scream like he wasn’t just fingering her in the car. She almost answers but she realizes she knows better. Scott told her to be quiet. So she’s quiet. He smiles at this decision. 

The elevator arrives and they shuffle in, a weird gulf of distance between the two of them. When no one else gets on with them and the doors close, Tessa hazards a look in his direction. Within an instant she finds herself pinned against the mirrored wall. Scott has her wrists in his hands by her sides, is breathing hotly on her neck. 

She wants to kiss him, is aching for it, wants any contact or touch, but he just keeps her pinned there. He pulls back to stare her down and she’s transported to the beginning of the Moulin Rouge routine, the iciness in his stare sending a chill down her spine. They stay there, locked together like that until the elevator dings and they’re on their floor. 

They walk pretty normally to her room, Scott unlocks it with the key card, and once they’re inside and their shoes are off, he turns to face her. 

“Fuck you,” he whispers before he presses her to the door and burns a kiss on her lips. She responds instantly, scratching at his back, pulling him closer, letting their tongues tangle and fight. He taps at her thighs and she nods into their kiss. He lifts her and she wraps her legs around his waist. 

Her skirt tears. She can’t be bothered to care about it. Still locked in their kiss, Scott walks to the bedroom and tosses his partner onto the bed like she’s a doll, like she’s nothing. 

“You’re going to kill me,” he groans as he starts to strip. Taking his cue, Tessa starts shucking her clothes off, throwing them towards the dresser. Eyes on each other, they peel layer after layer away. Scott nods at her once she reaches her La Perla lingerie and she’s slightly frustrated that she doesn’t get a good moment of him salivating over the matching set. 

But then he’s on top of her and they’re sinking into the mattress, slotting together like it’s meant to be. Tessa decides she’ll save the La Perla for another time. Scott won’t complain if he’s seen before. Near-naked Tessa is one of his favorite things, second only to fully naked Tessa.

Scott sets a quick pace, pounding into her, holding her arms above her head, lavishing her neck in kisses and small bites. Her hands find purchase in his hair, tugging at his long locks. She whines, his favorite noise, as he drags his teeth across her collarbone. 

“Scott,” she moans, tapping three times on his bicep. He nods, understanding her signal and he pulls out and throws himself back onto the bed. Not wanting to waste time, she quickly throws her leg over him, straddling him. He guides her down onto him and lets her settle. Tessa’s eyelids flutter in the pure fullness she feels and normally she’d be self-conscious but one night Scott gushed that he loved watching her. She’s stopped trying to hide her reactions because she knows he loves them. 

She picks up his pace, riding him, and he starts thrusting up to meet her. The two of them have decades of synchronization to back them up, they’re on the same wavelength in every other aspect. So when she arches his back one of his hands finds her breasts instantaneously, rolling her nipples between his fingers. His other finds her clit again and starts rubbing quick circles. 

“Need to—“ she whines, feeling her orgasm closing in on her. He nods, gives her the permission as the one who’s taken charge for the evening. His hands are gone and then they’re on the small of her back, pulling her down close to him. She continues grinding down on him as he litters sloppy kisses across her chin, around her mouth. It’s nice but far too gentle. She finds his hand on her hip and places it in her hair. Scott quickly catches on and tugs at her hair. 

Tessa’s orgasm crashes over her and Scott refuses to let his pace lag. He continues driving into her, watching her carefully as her face melts into pure pleasure, as her body tenses and her legs shake. Scott follows quickly after as Tessa pants in her afterglow. He buries his face in her neck, muffles his groans in her skin, and she gently rolls her hips around him to help him through. 

Once they’ve both finished she falls next to him and he pulls her close. She hums contentedly as she rolls into him, placing a soft kiss on his hand that’s cradling her. She’s not sure what to say, unsure of how to address what just happened, especially since all she wants to do is just sleep. 

“No more flirting with rap stars,” he whispers into her shoulder. He’s teasing in his tone, but she knows that he means business.

“I was getting back at you,” she replies, a laugh bubbling up from her stomach. 

“For what?” He asks. She turns in his arms to face him, almost surprised by his genuine confusion. 

“For…I don’t know. You go out after shows and you’re dancing with girls and taking pictures and I just…I want you all to myself,” she confesses. Scott’s confusion melts into a smug sort of pride and he presses another kiss to her temple, holding her even tighter. 

“You got me, T. I’m all yours,” he assures her. It feels like her heart bursts. 

“Good.”


End file.
